


Unsatisfactory

by captaindominoes



Category: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Coruscant Guard, Post-Umbara Arc (Star Wars)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:13:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27504361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/captaindominoes/pseuds/captaindominoes
Summary: Three months after darkness fell on Umbara, Dogma is still struggling with the ghosts of his past. Commander Fox is the only one who seems to think he has a future.
Comments: 12
Kudos: 59





	Unsatisfactory

“Sir.” The trooper at the door snapped to attention, and Fox’s gaze was drawn up from his datapad. “You asked to see me, sir.”

“Dogma. Come in.” Fox made no move to rise from his desk, instead gesturing for Dogma to sit down. He did; his spine stayed perfectly rigid, and his hands remained on his knees. His eyes were fixed firmly on a point just beyond Fox’s left ear. Suppressing a sigh, Fox set his work aside for now. Front line CTs were always so stiff. 

“Relax, Dogma. I called you in here to talk about your quarterly performance report.”

“Yes, sir.” Dogma’s lips twitched and his expression lifted, proud. He was a good trooper, and he knew it. He had never gotten a performance review lower than exemplary. Fox had already checked his file. 

Fox drummed his fingers on his desk and reached for a different pad, sliding it across to Dogma. “I spoke with your commanding officer, Commander Thire, and we both agreed on your evaluation. Your performance this quarter has been unsatisfactory.” 

Dogma’s face crumpled, and he gingerly picked up the datapad. “Sir… I don’t understand.”

“You’ve been here approximately three months; is that correct?”

“Yes, sir.” Dogma scanned the pad, eyes narrowed, and finally looked up at Fox. “This review states that my performance has exceeded expectations in every category. Why have I been evaluated as unsatisfactory?” Fox could hear the outrage bleeding into his words even if Dogma wouldn’t dare speak his protestations aloud. 

“You do your work extremely well. You were first assigned to patrol duty, and when you demonstrated success in that area, you were given greater choice on where you wanted to work,” Fox said evenly, reciting a list of facts. “You selected to work in the operations center. A desk job. All your paperwork is turned in on time, usually before its deadline. You show up early. You’re quick. You’re efficient. Your direct supervisor has nothing but praise for you. But…” He paused, watching confusion play out across Dogma’s face. “You don’t play well with others, do you, Dogma?”

Dogma bristled and set the datapad down. “If you’re speaking about the fight, sir, I didn’t instigate it.”

Fox would’ve chuckled if he wasn’t trying to impress upon Dogma how serious he was. “Tell me about it.”

“Mag and I had a disagreement, sir,” Dogma said with the air of someone who knew he wasn’t in the wrong. “It was over something small, but the argument escalated into attacks on my character. I responded. Mag threw a punch. It was broken up before I could hit him back.”

Fox hummed. “This isn’t the first fight you’ve been in since you arrived.”

“The first one that came to blows, sir, and I served my extra duty,” Dogma said, lifting his chin. “It wasn’t my intention to be antagonistic.”

Now Fox had to smile, just a little, just enough to show Dogma that he knew that was a pile of bantha shit. “You aren’t well-liked here,” he said bluntly, because he was never one to beat around the bush unless he was trying to get something from a politician. “You don’t work well in groups. You don’t try to get to know the others. You don’t sit with them at lunch, you don’t go out for drinks with them; you don’t even sleep in a bunk near the rest of them.”

“Sir, I wasn’t aware socialization was required for work,” Dogma replied cooly. 

“It isn’t. But you’re missing what I’m trying to tell you, Dogma.” Fox sat up straight and folded his hands in front of him. “I don’t manage individuals. I manage a team. You’ve been here three months, and you still haven’t been able to grasp that. I did my research, and I read your file. I can put the pieces together. But you need to understand that you work for me now, not Captain Rex.” His expression hardened, just a fraction, as Dogma eyed him warily. “And certainly not General Krell.”

Dogma’s jaw tightened. “I wasn’t under the impression that I was working for either of them. Sir.” The words were spat out with malice, but they barely phased Fox.

“You’re protecting yourself. I understand that,” Fox said. “You like rules. You like structure. You like familiarity. This is all new. I’ve given you ample time to adjust. What you need to do now is make an effort. You need to understand that this system you believe in so strongly relies on the strength of the group. The brotherhood.”

“I can’t force them to like me, sir,” Dogma said. Chastised, his gaze lowered to the desk. “I can’t change who I am.”

“I’m not asking you to.” Fox pushed his chair back and stood, walking to one of the cabinets in the corner. Opening it, he pulled out a small bag, and he presented it to Dogma when he sat back down. Upon unfastening the bag, Dogma paused and looked at Fox. 

“Sir, I haven’t earned--”

“You earned that and more a long time ago.” 

Dogma slowly pulled each item out of the bag. There were three in total: a tin of quick-dry red paint, a brush, and a rag. An armor painting kit. “Sir, I don’t think the others believe I should wear your colors.” He had ditched the blue after his first day, and ever since, he had been stuck in shiny armor. 

“Our colors,” Fox corrected. “You are a part of this team. It’s time for you to start acting like it.”

Dogma exhaled and carefully packed the items back into the bag. There was much he could say, and much that hung in the air between them, but the understanding was enough. Fox saw past everything, past his guilt, his anger, and his pain, and he saw him. This was his way of extending a hand while at the same time, allowing Dogma to choke down his mouthful of pride on his own time. “Thank you, sir.”

“You are exemplary,” Fox told Dogma, and then he nodded at the tin of paint. “You’re a good trooper. And, from what Captain Rex has told me and from what I’ve observed, a good man. Make an effort. You’re dismissed.” 

Dogma stood and snapped to attention, his chest puffed out and his arms pinned firmly to his sides. “Yes, sir!” With the bag in his left hand, Dogma saluted crisply with his right.

Standing, Fox snapped to attention and returned his salute. Dogma beat him on the way back down, like a good shiny would. Satisfied, Fox returned to his work as Dogma turned on his heel and left. The Coruscant Guard wasn’t his home, not yet, but it could be, if he made the effort. 

**Author's Note:**

> Writing Tumblr: captaindominoes


End file.
